The Diego Diaries: Out There In The Mess (dd8 486)
=0=Springer and Company
They culled the debris field for flailers who had been thrown from their ships, jumped or managed to escape however they could. Floating around in the mass of busted ass ships, they did their best to get away but there was in the end no where to go. Given that many Decepticons could change into flying vessels and all had the capacity to fly even if some didn't by choice … Knockout, for instance … there was in the end nowhere to go.
They were gathered by Hercy's shuttle and the on-ship contingent of Seekers, some of whom had to pulverize their quarry before bringing them in. Tossed onto the flight deck, small that it was for a cruiser sized vessel, they were shaken down, then marched toward the brig. Over fifteen hundred would be gathered, most in good shape miraculously as would be found about two hundred fifteen dead.
It would take a while.
Solo would be among the last rounded up.
=0=Prowl and Company
He sat on his ship watching the tally of the former high castes grow. Some of them he knew, some he'd heard of, a couple were nemesis bots with his father and one of them was a teacher in his private academy. That mech was a blighted memory he hoped never to revisit.
Ah, such are dreams.
The inferno had been put out and the ship was totaled. So were the fifty-two individuals on board. It was being towed to Mars to be forensically searched for remains and identities. There was little else to do.
Casualties for the rampage were growing, lots of trauma and broken bits. No more deaths would come out of it but there would be full hospitals ahead as a result. Prowl burned with a silent fury over that.
Nearby in the cage, the humans were watching the screen, eating a meal and discussing the situation.
"What about that big one? Xantium?" Louis Richardson asked as he sipped his coffee. "Is he going to jail for that? It looks like there were deaths there."
"Hard to say," Niall Graham mused. "Extenuating circumstances maybe. I don't know. Prime frowns heavily on gratuitous violence."
"This is a very violent society," Louis said as he glanced at Graham.
"This is a heroic society," Jessie Landon now Spencer-Brooks said. "Like the early human ones, the Greeks and Romans. They've lived by the sword forever because they had to. Fortunately, they have the leadership to make it better. All of them are great warriors like Achilles.
"Their travails are beyond our imagining. Now they come together to help each other and in the midst of them is the old cancer. This time they won't win but there will be trouble nonetheless."
He stared at Jessie. "I can imagine."
It was then that a number of mechs stepped out of the elevator nearby to walk toward Prowl where he sat staring at them with a cold expression. They stopped in front of the table. One of them was in energon cuffs and the mechs with him were lit.
"Here's the fragger, Prowl. What do we do with him? Douse him with energon and light a match?" a big mech said.
"That's an idea," Prowl said as he stared at Solo. "Where the frag were you expecting to go?"
"Anywhere but here, Prowl," the big mech growled. He was huge, covered in scars and tattoos and looked as lethal as any the humans had ever seen.
"Well, we have a nice vacation planned for you, murderer. You blew up a ship filled with mechs and femmes. There's a short walk into a wood chipper for you in future. I just want you to know. Enjoy your prison cell, slagger," Prowl replied. "Take him away. Isolation."
The mechs nodded, gripped the mech and walked him back out.
Prowl stared at them, then sat back. :Optimus:
:Here:
:We have Solo. What's happening?: Prowl asked.
:I am relieved. Isolate him. We're moving onward. The ship was towed to Mars for forensic analysis and we have several high caste ships to visit next:
:I will come if need be: Prowl said. :Be safe:
:I will. Prime out: Optimus Prime said as he floated toward a ship with the usual stand out markers for caste. He felt a fury rising in him as he considered their intransigence. Most of the high castes visited gave their oaths grudgingly but the deed was done. It was up to them how this would turn out but the meter for trouble was spinning against the future. He would have to address it when he got back.
Magnetizing to the hull, he rapped on the door with his gun. :Open up. This is Optimus Prime:
After a moment the door opened. He slipped inside followed by a group of mechs fully loaded. Glancing around the corridor, they walked forward into the classic ship until they entered a midway lounge. Mechs and several femmes were sitting there with others all younger standing behind them.
Prime stared at them with fury as they stared back equally. "Who is in charge of this vessel?"
"I am," a femme said. "I am Delta."
"You will give me your oaths," Prime said. "Everyone on this ship will do so and agree to the laws and rules of the colony toward which you are headed. I will take them now."
The femme rose slowly. "And if we don't give them?"
"Then you go to prison for treason. Advocating for The System by refusing your duty to me and your fellows is treason." Prime stepped closer. "I have no more patience with your impertinence."
"Impertinence," she asked with surprise. "Whatever do you mean?"
Prime leaned in. "I am Optimus Prime. I am the First Disciple of Primus Himself. When you defy me, you defy Him. Your disrespect has no basis in fact, talents or law. Either give me your oaths and live in the colony according to the law or go to prison. That is your choice."
"My ada doesn't deserve to be spoken to the way you're doing, Prime," a big mech said as he stepped closer to his mother. "You're way out of line here."
"Is that so," Prime said in a near whisper. "By what right do you defy me?"
The room was leaden with tension as the mech moved his mother back. "We do not recognize you as Prime."
A fist caught that mech in the face and he dropped like a rock. It stunned everyone in the room as they stared at him, then Prime.
"HOW DARE YOU STRIKE MY SON!" the femme said.
"HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME!" Prime roared. "BY WHAT RIGHT DO YOU HOLD THE IDEAS THAT YOU HOLD? YOU DESTROYED CYBERTRON WITH YOUR HATRED AND ENTITLEMENT! If I have to build fifty prisons to hold all of you I WILL! DO WHAT I TELL YOU OR GO TO JAIL! NOW!" he said.
They flinched at his rage, then glanced at each other as the mech on the floor slowly stood.
Prime gripped his arm and tossed him to the mechs behind him, throwing him like a rag doll. "Jail him for defying my orders and for instigating caste disruption."
"Where is he going?" Delta asked as she stepped closer.
Prime stepped toward her looming over her like an avenging god. "To prison."
She stared at him, then another mech stepped forward gripping her arm to pull her back. He looked at Prime. "You can't jail all of us."
"You have no IDEA what I can do," Prime said. "YOUR OATHS!"
It was silent, then the group consented. All of them were called from other parts of the ship to do the same. In a few moments the ship had complied including the femme, Delta.
"You will do as you are told. Your ship will be taken ahead and you will go through repatriation. You will be given a home and instructions about how to live in our colony. Cybertron is out of the question. It cannot host refugees at the moment," Prime said.
"Thanks to you and your crap," a mech said to the group. "Thanks again."
They stared at the mech, then Prime but didn't say a word.
"What about my son?" the femme asked.
"He's going to jail and stand for his actions. You will do well to obey the law and acknowledge the reality of life among our people now. The System is DEAD! FOREVER!" he said.
"There are a lot of us, Prime. More are coming," a mech standing in a doorway nearby.
"There are over 300 million on Mars alone who will be happy to help you with your paradigm shift. They have zero patience with your caste poison," Prime replied. "You would do well to listen to that. No one will welcome your ideas ever again and to utter them is treason."
The room was still with tension.
"Wait your turn, go where you are told and grow up. No one wants to play your games again. If you force it I will call a Convocation of the Will," Prime said before turning to go.
The mechs followed him off the ship toward the next. They would give up their oaths without comment. At no point in that compliance did anyone on either side give an inch.
=0=TBC 7-27-2022 8=12=2022
ESL
utter: (uh-trrrrr): to speak
contingent: a group
